


In the Ever After

by ClaraxBarton, debwalsh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2019, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Art, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18855952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton, https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: In a universe where the Snap never happens, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes depart from public life to find their place in the world.  Together they create a little slice of heaven for themselves.  It may not be perfect, and some days are better than others.  But they’re together, and together they can overcome anything.With special thanks to Claraxbarton for her amazing art - adore it in chapter 1 - and Chicklette for her excellent beta support!





	1. The Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is the amazing art of Claraxbarton that inspired my story. It is not incredible?

* * *

**The inspiration art by Claraxbarton**

* * *

 


	2. In the Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Bucky find peace in the days and years after the defeat of Thanos. But some days are better than others, and some days challenge the bond between them. But through it all, they are together, partners in love and life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See trigger warning in the end notes.

Steve was happy. 

In the aftermath of the Second Battle of New York, in the aftermath of the battle in the unnamed stretches of space, the universe recovered from the madness of Thanos. The Avengers old and new, the heroes of Wakanda, the people of Asgard, the heroes of space ... they’d all done their part to take the battle to him, and they had been successful.

Thanos and his insane plan to eliminate half the living creatures of the universe had been stopped, the acts he’d committed with the Infinity Stones reversed, and Steve and his companions had been able to return to their Earth to a planet that no longer reviled them, no longer sought to contain and control them, and instead recognized them for what they had always been intended to be - protectors of the peace.

The Sokovia Accords had been scuttled, and the greatest minds of Wakanda, of Asgard, of Stark Industries, and the assembled nations of the world had worked to draft reasonable guidelines for the peaceful coexistence of enhanced and non-enhanced.

But all that wasn’t what made Steve happy. It was great to live in a world where people’s destinies weren’t decided by an alien whose own people had deemed him mad. It was great to live in a world where he didn’t have to be a fugitive because he’d been engineered to have superior strength and stamina to fight for people who hadn’t been.

It was even great to live in a world where food wasn’t boiled, and underwear came in soft materials that didn’t chafe his ass or ride up his crack.

But that wasn’t what made Steve happy.

Bucky Barnes. Alive, whole, and naked in the bathroom they shared in their little house outside New York City. That’s what made Steve happy.

Steve settled back in the warm embrace of his bath and smiled. “You expectin’ some secret of the universe to show up in that mirror, Buck?”

Bucky breathed out a pent up sigh and shook his head. “Thought I caught a gray hair in my reflection.” He tugged out something from the hair at his temple, and shook his head. “Cat hair. Damn stuff gets everywhere. I swear I pulled a hairball outta my crack yesterday.”

Steve barked a laugh and nearly dropped his sponge, but he shook his head affectionately and went back to drawing scented water across his chest to rinse the soap from his skin.

“You expectin’ to grow fins and a tail in there, Rogers?” Bucky asked then, turned from considering his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He leaned back against the pedestal sink, his hands, flesh and vibranium prosthetic, resting on the edge to either side of his hips. His dick, dusky and uncut, hung between his legs, his smooth balls nestled behind it. Bucky grinned as he tracked Steve’s eyes drop from his face to his junk. “Or y’see somethin’ you like right here?”

“Always see somethin’ I like when I’m lookin’ at you. And what would you do if I did grow a tail, huh?”

“Tail, hooves, tentacles, wouldn’t matter. You’d still be my Steve. I’d still find a way to love you.” To prove it, he sauntered over and reached down to gently run his hand through Steve’s damp hair, down his cheek, and cradled his chin in his palm, his thumb running lightly over Steve’s lower lip. 

Steve turned his face slightly to press a kiss against the pad of Bucky’s thumb. Then he glanced pointedly at the package that was now only inches from his face, and smirked as Bucky’s dick twitched a little. That was all the encouragement Steve needed to suck Bucky’s thumb into his mouth, looking up at Bucky with challenge in his eyes as he did so.

Bucky’s hand moved quickly, as he pulled his thumb out of Steve’s mouth and brought it up to the crown of Steve’s head, and shoved downward. 

Steve was under water and sputtering before he had a chance to react, and then strong hands, flesh and metal, reached under his armpits to haul him back up. “Think you’d be pretty with a tail, baby.”

Steve shook his head, letting water spatter wildly from the ends, then tilted his head back to look at Bucky. “Do fish fuck?” he asked, and smiled as Bucky’s mouth closed over his, Bucky’s metal hand smoothing down his throat, his clavicle, his chest, to rest over the curve of his left pec, to press over his nipple there. He felt the immediate zing of electricity follow the direct route to his dick. He lifted his arms up, water sluicing down them, and twisted his fingers into Bucky’s hair, to draw him groaning, deeper into the kiss. Then he flipped over in the bath, rose up on his knees, and drew Bucky along with him until they were standing, and he stepped out over the rim of the tub so that he and Buck were pressed together along every glorious inch of naked skin, lips pressed together in languorous, luxurious kisses.

Bucky Barnes. Alive. Whole. Naked. In Steve’s arms.

That’s what made Steve happy.

&&&

They’d left heroing behind them in the days following their return, and the terms of the Wakanda Accords made them free men in every nation on Earth in perpetuity. Any claims against them had been expunged, any suspicions laid to rest. For them and the other Avengers, for Strange and Wong, Quill and his odd band of extraterrestrials. The Asgardians, one and all. Even Loki, who’d proved to be under Thanos’s influence when he’d rained Chitauri vengeance upon the world, had been granted planet-wide amnesty.

Pepper Potts had taken up the cause of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, and she’d secured an impressive pile of compensation from the US Army, the US government, the remnants of SHIELD, and even the UN. Bucky’d been pleased to get his discharge papers, and he hadn’t refused the money. He had insisted, however, that Steve’s discharge papers follow, and at that point, Steve would have given him anything. Hell, at any point in human history, Steve would have given Bucky Barnes anything. Turned out the US government was willing to give Steve anything he wanted, so he walked away with his own honorable discharge, his remaining back pay with interest, the freedom over his own enhanced person, along with a healthy pension for him and Buck. Steve even got back ownership of the shield, even though Tony had given it back to him during that final fight with Thanos. 

Steve would never forget the look on Tony’s face when Steve had shown him the discharge paperwork, though. It was melancholy, that look, like the end of something, leading to the start of something new where Tony wouldn’t be able to follow. But Steve had looked over at Pepper, at the way she saw nothing but Tony in that room, and he felt confident that sometime soon, Tony would finally find his own way home.

But that was all behind them. The wheeling, the dealing, the press conferences, the shouted questions, the barrage of flashes, the hand he held when it started to get too much for Buck. They’d bowed out of the limelight, packed their gear away, Steve had handed his shield to Sam, and they’d gotten into an old car that made Tony weep with frustration, and off they’d gone.

They’d wandered for a while, taking a bit of time to see the country they’d fought and died for several times over. They’d posted pictures on their private Instagram known only to their friends, and once they’d left a place behind, they’d share a snap or two on their Twitters and their public Instas. They’d fielded requests for personal appearances (almost always rejected that first year), and answered questions for scholars (always by e-mail, never in person). When school had started the following fall, they’d taken to visiting grade schools to meet the next generation of heroes, enjoying every gap-toothed smile and wide-eyed grin that’d come their way.

Once they’d settled into their skins, and felt comfortable with the kids, they’d started to consider other public forays, but they only ever accepted invites from veterans’ groups and LGBTQIA groups - the groups that were near and dear to their hearts. 

Although, there was that one time that Steve had accepted an invitation to present the Irving Thalberg award at the Oscars. Thalberg had died before Steve’d ever got to Hollywood in the early days after the serum, but he was another boy from Brooklyn who’d reached for the stars and caught them, and Steve had been humbled and pleased at the invite. They’d both enjoyed dressing up, Buck prominently displayed on Steve’s arm as they’d walked the red carpet. Buck had been especially delighted at how the kiss he’d planted on Steve, flesh and vibranium hands crushing his tux lapels, broke the internet. For the next two days.

Yeah, that had been a high point.

There’d been low points, too. Finding the family plot in Shelbyville, Indiana, and marking George and Winnie’s graves had been hard. Bucky’s parents had lived to see their son declared a dead hero, had seen the end of the war, the start of a military conflict followed by an undeclared war, and the beginning of the Civil Rights era. But their death dates were the same, and a quick query online revealed they’d died in a car accident after they’d moved back to Indiana. Buck had whispered something about at least they’d been together, then clutched Steve so close it almost hurt. 

What really got him was seeing Becca’s name graven in stone a few feet away, 1920 to 2010. They’d both just missed her, and it reminded Buck of how much he didn’t remember of the years before Hydra. Buck had become almost non-verbal after that. That night, Bucky had just wanted to be held.

So they’d done some internet research, learned more about Rebecca Barnes’s life, her contributions to science at a time when a woman’s voice was drowned out by the egos of men, the family she’d raised, the loss of her husband, her return to Indiana to bury their parents, and the legacy she’d left behind. Steve and Bucky together had chosen to endow a college scholarship in her name at her alma mater. If Bucky couldn’t remember her clearly, at least others would remember her name and the achievements she’d made.

The excited and appreciative e-mails Bucky had received from her family sent him into a shuddering, weeping spiral. Steve had quietly answered them, thanked them for getting in touch, and told them gently that Bucky was dealing with fresh grief at learning his younger sister was gone. Steve still continued to correspond with Becca’s clan, and when he thought Bucky could handle it, he’d share updates and stories. Steve became fairly close with Becca’s family, even promised that someday soon they’d all get together, but that was a step that Bucky just wasn’t ready to take, even now.

Once, they’d stumbled across a Hydra facility in the middle of Montana. It was inactive, long abandoned. But the sight of the Hydra emblem, and familiar pattern of faceless concrete walls, the abandoned labs, the iron-barred cells, and the operating theatres that never quite lost the smell of blood and pain ... all the progress Bucky had made over the past few years he seemed to unravel between one breath and the next. The sex that night had been punishing in its intensity - emotional, brutal, and seemingly never ending. They’d literally broken the bed at the motel, and Steve had handed over enough money to cover that and repairs to both the wall and floor of the unit.

Steve had called the location in to Tony, and within twelve hours, the facility was a smoking crater. Steve had driven Bucky out so he could watch the strike, and knew that was the right thing to do when Bucky had slumped against him, openly weeping. He’d been quiet the next few days, but eventually roused when they reached the Pacific Northwest and tacked their way north toward Canada and then Alaska.

There were nights - then and even now - when neither of them could sleep, or where one would be so shaken and broken down by memories, nightmares, or both, there seemed little point in going on.

But sure as the sun continued to rise in the morning, they’d reach out for each other, and together they would claw their way out of the dark. Their line had not reached the end yet. And in the wan light of pre-dawn, when they lay together in the quiet, each of them in their own way, swore that that line would continue. Their story wasn’t done yet.

&&&

Finally after more nearly two years of wandering, they’d both found they missed the seasons of New York, felt the need for roots and permanence. So they’d started browsing real estate sites online. One day, they’d found a place that looked the way they both felt that home would feel. They had booked an appointment, driven back to New York, done a walkthrough, and signed the papers that night.

It was older than they were by a good decade or so, well-built in the Craftsman style, with gorgeous bones and even better finishes. It sat on a pretty lot in an old neighborhood, with mature trees and a well-tended yard. It had a workshop and a garage, and a backyard big enough to entertain heroes and deities alike. They didn’t have to do much to the house when they moved in besides a fresh coat of paint in colors they found soothing. They haunted estate sales and antique markets until they found nothing but the perfect pieces.

The bed, however, had been a special splurge, perhaps the only truly new piece in the entire house.

It had to be big.

It had to be sturdy.

It had to be beautiful.

And it had to be able to withstand frequent and repeated bouts of super soldier sex.

It also had to be specially made. It had been a gift from artisans in Wakanda, fitted out by the impish and “totally I ship you” mind of Princess Shuri. Somebody needed to take a look at that kid’s internet history, but at least nowadays she was legal.

That bed was a decadent oasis fit for a king and made for two boys from Brooklyn.

Their lives weren’t all about the sex. There was cuddling. There was their growing collection of cats, all of whom seemed to fall in love with Bucky, and tolerate Steve. Steve had a studio where he took up art again. Bucky had his own in the external workshop where he focused on mastering skills like woodworking and metalworking. He’d focused on making those metaphorical swords he’d been forced to carry into plowshares, or at least decorative lawn ornaments.

Before long, they’d found they had accumulated quite a pile of stuff they’d made. They’d gifted some of it to their friends, but sculptures of wood and steel weren’t really practical for New York City apartment dwellers, or folks who lived at the Avengers Compound upstate. T’Challa had accepted Steve’s portrait of his father with due deference, right before Shuri had demanded a companion portrait of their mother, Queen Mother Ramonda. Steve had agreed before her brother could protest his sister’s rudeness.

Then they’d attended one of those art festivals, and dragged a number of their pieces to display in the little tent provided by the festival organizers. Both had dressed casually, and both had let their beards grow out a bit beforehand so they wouldn’t look so captainy or soldiery, and it had worked. They’d had the pleasure of seeing their work sell in its own right, and then watch the eyes of their customers nearly bug out of their skulls when they realized who they’d just bought from.

Now they both had a steady clientele, Steve for his portraits, his landscapes, even his abstracts, Bucky for his sculpture, which had graduated both in complexity and often size. Occasionally, Steve would take some time off to play with working on a graphic novel he and Bucky were doing together. If pressed, he would admit it was his favorite project, taking one of Bucky’s old sci-fi ideas and turning it into a modern storybook. Tony had offered to buy a publishing house to publish it, but Pepper had reminded him that they already owned one, and offered its resources to Steve whenever they were ready.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad life. It was more than either of them had ever realistically hoped for, and it was everything they’d ever wanted for each other. 

And the best part was they got to do it together.

&&&

The house boasted all the modern amenities, but Steve had to admit that for a really good think, he liked to sink down into their old iron claw foot tub, and let the hot scented water just work its magic. Sometimes he’d sink so low, only his nose and eyes rested above the water line.

When Steve was in think mode, that was always Bucky’s favorite time to strut around naked, striking poses that made Steve’s mouth water and his dick take notice, but the real game was in seeing who could last the longest before one of them broke down and just had to start manhandling the other.

So far, they were running dead even. It was Steve’s turn to capitulate, but his head was caught up in a commission, and he hadn’t even noticed the first three times Bucky had come through, or the way that Bucky had started stroking himself on the last circuit.

A fourth time apparently was too much to ask of his boyfriend, and Steve was startled out of his reverie by 250 pounds of ex-super soldier suddenly planting himself in Steve’s lap, causing half the bath water to slosh over the side and flood the tile floor of the bathroom.

“What the fuck, punk? I’m using all my best moves on you and you got your head in the clouds!” He ground down on Steve’s dick for emphasis. “You, me, a bottle’a lube, and a good time’ll be had by all. Chop-chop, Stevie. You know you don’t wanna miss out on this,” he waved at his beautiful body, glistening with water droplets. 

Steve just smiled, grabbed Bucky by the back of the neck, and hauled him in for a kiss. “Fine. Now get off’a me, you’re pinching my junk, jerk!”

&&&

They rolled apart panting, sweaty, and sticky with each other’s bodily fluids. “Fuck, baby, what you do t’me,” Bucky gasped. “I’d say you fucked the jizz outta me, doll, but we both know I’ll be ready to go again in about half an hour. Toss me some wipes,” he added, putting his metal hand out.

Steve reached over, popped open the container, and pulled out a fistful of wipes that he pressed into Bucky’s hand. Then he wiped off himself with another, balled up the wipe, and made a three-pointer to the trash can in the far corner of the room.

“Mmm,” Steve murmured with a blissful smile on his face as he wriggled happily in place. “Wake me when you’re ready.”

Bucky rolled his head to look directly at Steve. “Whatsamatter, punkin? Can’t keep it up?”

Steve turned his face to look right back at Bucky. “Got no bones left. Snuggle me, big guy.”

Bucky smiled. Cuddly Steve was his favorite. Right next to Sex Machine Steve. “Well, if I gotta,” he agreed as he dragged Steve over onto his chest, nuzzling his hair happily. “Mmm, like that new shampoo, sugartits. But goddamn, I do love you.”

“Love you, too, Buck,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s neck, his arm draped over Bucky’s chest and his legs tangled with Buck’s. “God, you make me happy.”

Bucky smiled fondly and pressed his lips against the top of Steve’s head. “Right back atcha, sweetheart. Right back atcha.”

&&&

They didn’t live their lives in a vacuum, and they’d retained ties with Steve’s old teammates. Every so often Sam Wilson would take a drive up to spend the weekend, quietly chuckling to himself over the way the two super soldiers had settled into suburbia and domestic bliss. When Bucky announced he was going to be coaching Little League, Wilson about lost his shit. That was until Steve pointed out that Bucky had been a star athlete in school, and the pair of them had held onto their lifelong love of the game. Steve was beyond excited about attending games over the summer, and insisted that Sam had to come up to see some with him. “There’ll be beer and really bad hot dogs,” Steve cajoled, and Sam couldn’t help but to laugh and agree.

Clint called one night and asked if he could visit and lay low for a bit. Steve was a little hesitant to involve the neighborhood in anything that might be dangerous, but when pressed, Clint admitted that while he was recuperating from injuries sustained on his last mission, he was laying low from an overzealous colleague at the Avengers compound, someone who refused to recognize that when Clint said he was taken, he meant it. Just because no one ever saw him and Nat together as a couple didn’t mean they weren’t committed to each other.

“Nat know you’re here?” Bucky asked as he took Clint’s carryall at the door.

“Who d’you think suggested this? She figured I’d recuperate faster here if I didn’t have to keep dodging Angela. She’s a nice enough person, but she just won’t take no for an answer!”

“You report her for harassment?” Bucky asked as he ushered Clint to the guest room.

“She’d lose her job if I did.”

“Dude, you’re not doing anybody any favors letting her get away with this kind of behavior. What about the next poor schmuck she zeroes in on, huh?”

“I dunno. I’ll see how it is when I go back. If she still hasn’t chilled out, I’ll talk to HR. Now where’s that guy of yours? Haven’t seen Cap in forever.”

“It’s Steve, not Cap,” Bucky reminded with a stern expression that softened as he continued, “And he’s delivering a report to the borough council tonight on an arts program he’s proposing.”

“And you’re not there to cheer him on?”

“A, you were coming. And B, I’ve heard this thing twelve times over in different versions. Coulda used a break from it, so thanks for coming, y’know?”

“Who’d’a thought the pair of you would become such upstanding citizens, huh? Next thing you know, you’ll be joining the Rotary or some such shit.”

“Um.”

“You didn’t.”

Bucky shrugged. “I do what makes my man happy, you know?”

“Man you are whipped.”

“Sometimes,” he smirked. “Sometimes it’s ropes, too. I got my favorites. Wanna see our toy room?”

“Ugh, TMI, dude, TMI!”

&&&

Very rarely, Tony Stark would drive up to see them, usually with Pepper at his side. She liked to go antiquing nearby, and she was always anxious to see what was new in Bucky’s workshop, or in Steve’s studio. Tony spent most of his time trying to convince them to let him trick their house out with their own node of JARVIS, or any and all manner of gadgetry. He’d even offered them their own bots. And while the idea intrigued the sci-fi nerd in Bucky, he and Steve had agreed they wanted to keep the house grounded in the present, with a normal level of tech. Bucky wasn’t above agreeing to some of the toys Tony suggested in terms of upgrading his workshop however. As Bucky led Tony out to his workshop, Pepper nodded knowingly. Tony needed a project, and Bucky was a good enough friend that he gave him one.

&&&

The rarest visitor was Nat herself, even though she was often the person who nudged the others to visit. Steve finally took the train down to New York City to talk to her about it. He missed her, and it made him sad that she chose not to be a part of his life.

He’d thought it was the fact that Buck didn’t remember her from the Red Room - he had no memories of his time with the Red Room at all, since they’d been burned out of his brain and those particular memories had never regenerated. He’d told Steve he thought they overdid the recalibration because they were punishing their Asset for showing a human side, perhaps the only time that had really happened since they’d broken James Buchanan Barnes originally. Bucky only knew what he’d read in the files, and what Natasha had told him. He’d shared that with Steve, and he felt he had an inkling of what Nat must feel, knowing that the person she’d loved was there, but they didn’t remember her, might never remember her that way, and they were committed to someone else besides.

So he’d gone to New York to take her out to lunch at a place they both liked, and once their salads were delivered, he wasted no more time on niceties.

“So, is the fact that Buck doesn’t remember you and the Red Room the reason you don’t come to visit us? Cos we’d both love to have you, you know.”

She paused, her fork suspended over her salad plate. Blinking once, she raised her eyes to look into Steve’s. “No.”

“Then why?”

“I figured my history with Barnes would be something you wouldn’t want to be reminded of,” she answered with a shrug.

“Seriously? I thought you were hurting over him. I’m glad you both found some solace together in a horrible situation. I’m just sorry they hurt him so badly because of that.”

“And I carry some of the blame for that. I knew ... i knew there would be consequences. Punishment. I just never expected ... I just never expected he would bear all of it. They hurt him to hurt me. They didn’t have to damage him so much to reset him. I swear I didn’t know -”

“How could you? It wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of the monsters who held you both. And they’re gone now. And you and Buck survived. The best revenge is being happy. Like you are with Clint.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth at that, and Steve let his own smile bloom. “I’m right, aren’t I. You and Clint - you’re good together. And Bucky and I ... we’re happy. You’d see that if you came to visit. We really are.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Happy is a good look on you, Rogers.”

It really was.

&&&

Not all days were filled with non-stop sex marathons and luxurious soaks in the tub. Both of them still had demons to face, memories that refused to stay forgotten, pains that no amount of drink or time or balm could erase. Some might assume that men like Captain America, the Winter Soldier, would be above such things now, the shield and the war behind them. But Captain America and the Winter Soldier were just designations, roles played by Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Steve and Bucky were merely human, with an edge, an advantage. Some days that supposed edge was the very thing that was their undoing.

Steve was out for his morning run, a tradition he’d started back in DC in the days before the Winter Soldier had first entered his life. Running was something he loved to do, not something he had to. Back when they’d been traveling, they’d experimented, put all physical activity except for sex on hold, ate and drank themselves stupid, and after a month, neither of them had lost a bit of muscle tone, neither had gained an ounce. Their metabolisms adjusted to maintain them both in peak physical condition, regardless of what they put in their bodies, or how lazy they became.

Steve had just shrugged it off and gone back to running, satisfied with the outcome of the experiment. Bucky had shrugged off any attempts on Steve’s part to get him to come running with, claiming a similar satisfaction with the results. In his case, he saw no reason to get up at the asscrack of dawn to pound his bulk down the pavement just to break a little sweat. Even the promise of following that pert ass on Steve’s circuit wasn’t enough. Bucky preferred to wait until said ass returned to bed to pound it into the mattress.

So Steve never thought twice about rising alone, dawn just an idea of a suggestion of a smear of color in the sky. He pulled on his running shorts, his tee, his socks, and his shoes. He’d started running with music, and queued up one of the playlists Buck had organized on his phone. He pocketed his keys, secured his phone in a band on his bicep, and pulled the door closed behind him, eager to meet the day and secure in the belief that Bucky was safe and snug.

This early in the day, the streets were mostly clear, just the odd delivery vehicle, maybe a cop doing a safety circuit, maybe someone coming home from a late shift, or a one-night stand. Steve didn’t really care what their stories were in the watery light of the nascent day - he just wanted to run.

And run he did. At times he felt like he was soaring, racing against himself as his legs pistoned and his arms sliced arcs through the air. Neighbors along his route might pause at the window, coffee cup in hand, to twitch back the curtain and watch his joyous race.

Because that’s what running brought him - joy.

And he had to be careful not to think too much of the joyous reunion waiting for him at home - it wouldn’t do to run through the neighborhood sporting a massive woodie at the thought of Buck spread out at home for him in bed.

So he focused on one foot in front of the other, the sensation of the heel of his foot hitting the pavement, rolling up through his arch to the ball of his foot to launch up again and again and again. The push-pull of his arms, the way every impact on the roadway reverberated up his legs, up his spine, fanned out over his shoulders and down his arms. He focused on his breathing, on the glorious way his lungs actually worked - something he never took for granted. 

Finally he was back on their street, the sky much lighter now, the neighborhood coming to life as the world greeted the day. He slowed his gait until he was just trotting, and then he was bounding up the stairs to their front door, all lovely dark wood and leaded stained glass. He loved this door, this house, this life. Mostly, he loved the man who lived in this house with him.

And that made Steve happy.

&&&

“Buck? Honey, I’m home. Gonna hop in the shower if you wanna join me!”

Silence met his invitation as he climbed the stairs slowly, listening for a response from the bedroom. Enhanced hearing - clear hearing of any kind - was another thing that Steve never took for granted. And what he heard made him pause, listen closer. He began to move slowly, methodically up the stairs, making as little noise as he possibly could.

He stopped at the head of the stairs and glanced down the hallway. The gun safe door was hanging open, just slightly. Thinning his lips in a straight, hard line, he felt his body coil, his hand twitching out for the shield that was now in the hands of his friend Sam Wilson on the other side of the globe as he fought as a member of the Avengers.

He reminded himself that this was Bucky. The man he loved. The man who loved him.

He lifted the hall mirror off its peg and held it close. Not a shield. But something like. It’d worked for Perseus, after all.

He followed the sound of labored breathing, of small, animal-like whimpers. That and the shush-shush of metal running back and forth over something synthetic.

Bucky’s thumb running over the stock of his Glock.

Steve drew a slow and steady breath, inched along the hallway to just before the door to their bedroom. He lifted the mirror and shifted his position to try to get a view into the bedroom.

There. Buck was pressed into the corner, dressed only in sleep pants, arms crossed over his drawn up knees, Glock held in his left hand, thumb shifting back and forth over the grip. His face was tear stained, and Steve had an incongruous thought that even weeping, even dissociated, Bucky was beautiful.

He lifted his right hand, balled it into a fist, and pressed it against his mouth as a wounded sound erupted from his throat. 

“Buck,” Steve sighed, his heart breaking.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and Steve was sadly aware that it was unlikely to be the last. 

He dropped to a crouch just outside their bedroom, pressed his back against the wall, and called out, “Buck? It’s me, it’s Steve.”

“No.”

“Yeah, Buck. It’s me. It’s Steve. I’m here. I’m safe. I’m me.”

“No.”

“Yes. You know me, you know my voice. I’m okay. I just wanna come into the bedroom, Buck. I just wanna hold you.”

“Can’t be Steve. Hydra took Steve.”

“No, Buck. Hydra’s not here. Just me. Just you. Just the two of us. The way it’s supposed to be. The way it’s always been. Then. Now. I’m with ya, baby. I’m always with ya. Til the end of the line, Buck.”

A choked-off sob met that silly declaration, the simple phrase that no one suspected back in the day, thinking they were talking the train that ran through their neighborhood, not a lifetime of commitment to each other.

“St-steve?” Bucky asked, his voice raw and shattered.

“Here, baby. Always here. Can I come in?”

Steve tilted the mirror and saw Bucky nod, raking his metal fingers, still wrapped around the gun, through his hair.

“Buck, y’gotta use your words, baby. Can I come in?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes, Steve, lemme see you -“

Steve closed his eyes and nodded to himself, drew a fortifying breath, and eased himself onto his knees. He set the mirror down on the floor and shuffled forward so he was just visible in the doorway. Bucky watched him avidly, and Steve poured all his love and care into making himself seem soft, at ease, non-threatening. 

Bucky waved the gun, encouraging Steve to move into the room. Steve smiled at him, and crawled slowly toward him while Bucky watched, tears streaming down his face.

Then Steve was a few feet away and he lifted himself up, settled back on his haunches, and smiled lovingly at Bucky. “How about you put the gun away, huh, sweetheart?”

Buck looked down at his left hand, still clutching the Glock, and looked genuinely surprised to find the weapon there. He shifted it, frowning, and held it out to Steve who accepted it with deliberate calm. A quick glance confirmed the safety was still on, and Steve felt the tightness in his chest loosen. He set it down on the floor, then knee-walked forward to gather Bucky into his arms. His best friend, his lover, his reason for living grabbed onto him and pressed his face against Steve’s chest, weeping loud and wet and present. Steve held onto him the only way he knew how - like he’d never let him go.

&&&

“Bad dream?” Steve asked as he massaged shampoo into Bucky’s hair. Bucky nodded, letting his head drop back against Steve’s shoulder while Steve’s fingers drew circles and whorls on Bucky’s scalp.

They were in the bath, Steve pressed back against the porcelain, Bucky sitting in the V of his legs, full body contact from the crown of Bucky’s head to the tips of his toes. The water was just this side of scalding, but the sensation helped to bring Bucky back to himself, to the present, to Steve.

“It’s best you talk about it, baby. Get it out into the air, let the rot out.”

“They took you. Hydra. They took you and they hurt you. They ... made you like I was. Killed you from the inside out.”

Steve pressed his lips against the curve of Bucky’s ear, pulled the sponge from Bucky’s neck, across his pecs, and down his torso, trailing soapy water in its wake. “And?”

“And I woke up and you weren’t here. I ... I thought it was true. I thought ... I couldn’t protect you from them, they found us, they found you, they took you -“ he hiccuped, speaking faster and faster until Steve buried his nose in the suds in Buck’s hair, sneezing and sputtering as it went up his nose. But his arms tightened around Bucky’s chest and shoulders, drawing him closer, surrounding and grounding him.

“I’m sorry, baby. I was out running. Like I normally do. You wanted to sleep in, so I let you.”

“You won’t stop running in the morning,” Bucky said flatly.

“Nope. Not gonna give up my life. Neither are you. Because living our lives without fear, being happy together ... that’s the best way to tell Hydra to fuck off. And you make me happy, Bucky. Happier than I thought it was possible to feel. And we’ll always protect each other from Hydra. We’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll always worry about you, punk. There’s always a new somethin’ stupid waitin’ for you to do. Gotta protect you from yourself, dumbass,” Bucky said then, knocking his head back to connect with Steve’s forehead.

“Yeah, well, somebody inspires me in that, jerk. Still not sure who ended up with more of the stupid.”

“Oh, that’s easy. I did. I ended up with you.”

“Good thing I love you, or I mighta been insulted.”

“Good thing I love you, too.”

&&&

They were both relatively pruney by the time they drained the tub, toweled each other off, settled on the bed, and let their hands roam at will. Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek and leaned in for a kiss that quickly became heated, hungry. Bucky kissed like it was the last time, and Steve kissed back with all the love and wonder of their first time. They kept kissing each other, hands and lips and tongues exploring each other, first reverently, then with purpose. They moved against each other, finding their natural rhythm, breathing into each other’s mouths, and chased their pleasure until they both came, each gasping the other’s name.

Then they settled in each other’s arms, wrapped in the warmth of each other. Steve held Bucky, listened for the steady beat of his heart, the regular cadence of his breathing. This time when Bucky woke, he’d wake in the arms of the man who loved him, safe and secure in the home they’d built for each other.

Some days might be tougher than others. Some days might be challenging, and some days it might seem there was no reason to go on. Then he would look and see Bucky there, and know that he had all the reason right there. And Steve Rogers was happy.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Bucky dissociates and poses a danger to Steve and himself when Steve gets home from running. Thankfully, Steve is able to pull him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Let us know what you think!
> 
> Find me on the web: https://linktr.ee/debwalshweb


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